


First Flight

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-07
Updated: 2006-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8077990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Missing scene, 2.24 "First Flight."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes it's sharp and fierce and steals your breath, making you want to curl up with the pain. Sometimes it's a dull and familiar ache that you rub at but never diminishes. Sometimes it's a combination of the two, at first sharp and then fading with time until it's bearable once more. And sometimes it sits on you, like a weight, pushing in and down, until you lose yourself in it. It is never comfortable, and it is often frustrating and fraught with emotions that you would rather not deal with. Sometimes it is fresh and deep and sometimes it strikes out of the blue from something as simple as a piece of music, or the day of a week. There are times when it settles around you like a mantel of sadness and you are content to wear, hoping to honor those it represents. then there are the moments when absorbed in your grief, the sound of a child's laughter, or a very bad joke by a very good friend breaks the mood and your own laughter spills forth, bubbling up. It feels good and free, and then you remember the grief and feel even worse for that moment of respite. As I mentioned, it is never comfortable, nearly bearable. Despite it all, we manage to survive and go on, and eventually we find a way to endure.

I was prepared to wallow in my grief. I was going to wrap it around me like an old blanket and savor it like a bottle of old wine. I was going to steep myself in memories and perhaps cry a bit, and I was going to do it alone. It is how I have always dealt with my grief. I take it out and turn it around and study and eventually find a way to cope with it in my own mind, and then I can look at it later with others, and the edge isn't as sharp. I was prepared to follow that path, even though Trip wanted to join me. I turned him down as gently as I could. We had both know A.G. and we had both shared a friendship and connection with this man. I closed my doors and prepared myself for my solitary journey, and then she turned my plans on their ears.

I didn't want her there. I wanted a moment just to be a man and a friend and not the captain. I really didn't want to think about dark matter and I certainly didn't want to think about her. Heavens know I've done enough of that over the last two years. No, I wanted all my focus on A.G., the grief, and me. I rarely get what I want even if I am the captain. I've learned to compartmentalize my wants. There are the wishes and fantasies and the not likely in a million years wants, and there are the obtainable ones. The first set, are personal...generally. These are Jonathan's desires. If figure I can always strive for them, but since I obtained one major dream with Enterprise, I can be content without the rest. Being captain and a man with desires are not mutually exclusive, but they aren't necessarily compatible either. So I fold away the more complicated aspects of the man, and savor the achievements of the captain. After all, I have a job I love and a good dog, what more do I need? Yeah, I know.

The second set of wants are much obtainable. They are the wants of a captain. Simple things like a smoothly running ship, and efficient crew, and lots of unexplored space. I love being a captain and having a captain's prerogative. I get first dibs on all kinds of new stuff and I certainly took advantage of it with this opportunity to explore the dark matter nebula. I was going to go off alone to explore, mostly myself.

As I mentioned, T'Pol changed that. The funny thing is, I didn't object all that hard. Why? Beats the hell out of me. Maybe it was the look in her eyes that said 'I know you are hurting right now, let me just be with you.' In fact that was exactly that look that made up my mind with only token protest. I think I knew that T'Pol would just be there if I needed her and that she truly cared. Despite the regulations, I could have turned her down, I would have turned her down, if it had been anyone but T'Pol.

I probably shouldn't mention this, but there is a comfort to T'Pol, a familiarity. This awareness falls under unobtainable wants, so I usually don't acknowledge it; but she reminds me of my mother. Sounds horrible right? Not really. She's tough and adamant and arrogant and opinionated, so am I, but she cares about people, even if she wont put it in emotional terms. The comfort and familiarity is such that just her presence makes me feel more secure, more at ease. I can be alone in a room with her, and I'm not lonely, even if we don't speak. There have been many dinners where it was just she and I and the silence surrounded us like a warm blanket. And yet, if the need to talk presses on me when she's around, she's always willing to listen. Of course that's were her resemblance to my mother ends. T'Pol is a beautiful, intelligent woman with an unconscious sexuality that pulls at me, even in my sleep. There are definitely times when I thank my maker for her Vulcan stoicism. I sweat just thinking about her in seductress mode. Ah, but I'm rambling again.

So there we are, taking out the shuttle together and I'm so determined to keep my thoughts to myself, and then I'm talking and telling her about A.G. and me and remembering the good things. Suddenly the grief isn't quite so sharp and though I smile and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman and the mysteries and light show of dark matter, I know A.G. would approve. It fails back on risks and the ones we are willing to take. And I keep thinking that there is no guilt because I am sharing him, celebrating his life with T'Pol, showing her how he helped shape the man I am. Sounds strange when you think of it in terms of an adult guiding another adult rather than a child. I guess it's true people, even those who touch our lives briefly, effect us. There was a moment, just a moment when she leaned over my chair that her hand brushed my shoulder. I could smell the warm, familiar scent of woman, and feel the caress of her breath across my ear, and I forgot everything. When she moved away it was like another loss, but one I could do something about. Though I wanted to pull her close and hold on tight, I didn't. I called her back and shared that moment with her. It was then I realized she was a risk I needed to take. Will I act on it? I don't know, but I had some pretty clear thoughts of hot, wild sex in the shuttle, so steamy it made the windows fog. I think maybe I'd like to see if it were possible. Maybe that's why I'm sitting in this shuttle talking to myself. Either way, the category one wants are playing hell with the category two wants, and the man is having trouble drawing another line in the sand. I mean, I'm all for wild, monkey sex. I wouldn't be a red blooded, healthy human male if I weren't. But it's funny how the need for it diminishes with the lack of availability. Oh there is always hand action, and I've never been opposed to that either, but I'd rather have the hot clasp of a female body then the grasp of the five sisters, unless they are attached to said female body. I doesn't matter anyway, all I keep thinking is of my suggestion for the name of the nebula, liking the sound of it in my head. T'Pol Archer...I can't stop myself from lifting a drink to A.G. in salute. Nothing worth having comes without risk. Thanks for the lesson A.G.

I'm settled here and pleasantly buzzed. Not enough to impair my decision making process, but enough to make me question whether or not another drink is in my immediate future. There is nothing pressing here, nothing but me, the shuttle, and an empty bay. It's late, well after midnight, and I don't have to be on the bridge tomorrow. It's a good night for thinking about friendships, and risks.

"Captain?"

At first, I think the soft voice floating over me is part of a dream, but as I look up I realize the object of my desires is standing right in front of me. The urge to reach out and see if she is real is near too much. I fight for control, and normalcy for my voice. "What can I do for you T'Pol?" Wild monkey sex? Better yet, a slow hot burn, yeah that's the ticket. I'm sure my eyes are glazing over.

"What are you doing?"

I'm sure I hear concern in her voice though her face is as expressionless as usual. Well it would be for someone who didn't know her as I do. That comfortable feeling settles over the need and I pat the seat next to me. "Sharing a drink with the memory of an old friend, and thinking." She hesitates by the seat, caught between staying and going, and I'm not sure which I want her to do. I take a good look at her. She dressed in her workout clothes but I'm not certain if she's going or has already been. She looks as cool and composed as if she had just gotten dressed. There aren't even any sweat stains to give me a clue. I've never seen her sweat, never seen a Vulcan sweat. I wonder if she does. I give her a half grin. I wonder.

"Are you alright?"

My next smile is fuller and easier. "Yeah, I think I am, thanks."

She nods and turns to leave. "I will leave you then. Good night Captain."

Yeah, leaving is good. I turn my head to respond and get an eye full of shapely backside and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. To hell with it. I'm reaching for her before I even realize it. As my hand closes over hers, I call out. "Wait..." Then I'm drawing her to me and she not resisting. "Stay with me." Despite her assurances to the contrary I can see confusion in her eyes and want. She wants to be with me as much as I want her here. Suddenly I'm wondering if I can shake that composure even more.

Just when I think I know this woman she surprises me. She doesn't object when I pull her into my lap and she doesn't object when I cover her mouth with my own. She doesn't even object when my hands begin searching out all the creases and crevices that make her uniquely T'Pol. In fact, she blows my mind by returning the favor. With just the slightest bit of encouragement she is straddling my lap and her heat is pressed against me. Her body is both supple and firm and I want to explore all of it. There are aspects of sex that are always the same, and yet, even with the same partner there can be novelties that keep us coming back. I want to know all there is about this woman, all the familiarities and the novelties and keep seeking them out to see what remains the same and what changes over time. The way she's writhing against me belies her calm, Vulcan exterior, and I have to say it does wonders for my ego. The little man isn't complaining either, or actually he is because he desperately wants to be IN that heat that keeps brushing against him. I keep reminding myself that I'm a grown man with control, but this woman in my arms, the one I've fantasized about for so long, is making a mockery of my control and damned if I don't like it. I wonder briefly if all Vulcan's are this uninhibited during sex, and then I find I don't really care. All I want is T'Pol and she's in my arms.

It doesn't take me long to divest her of her clothes and I'm able to control myself long enough to take in silky bronze skin and taunt brown nipples. I want to taste all of her and I can't believe how sweet she is, or how exotic she smells. I lift her and set her on the control panel of the helm on front of me, wasting no time stripping her of her pants. I take a moment to be thankful that the helm requires a certain sequence of button pushing to active the control panel before I indulge in tasting all of her. Everything about her appeals to me and I want to savor it all. I barely delve into the hot, musky heat of her with my mouth when she is pulling me away and over her. When I was imagining sex in the shuttle, I never dreamed on the helm but what the hell, any supportive surface in a storm works for me, and I'm definitely in a storm.

I want to be easy, take the time to arouse and be aroused though I seriously doubt I could stand anymore. T'Pol won't have any of it. I can't believe how passionate she is, how wonderfully responsive. And then I'm IN and it's so hot and tight I think I'm going to explode right there. I can feel every beat of her heart as she pulses around me and all thought of any other women is lost in the grasp of this one. It is the first and the best and the only in one embrace. Flames of sensation are washing over me and the urge to move, to bury myself so deep I never come out, drive me forward. The little mewling sounds she makes as I move drive me on and give me control. I want her with me, making those sounds and digging her nails into my back forever. T'Pol Archer, yeah, mine, I like that...No, I love it, I love her. Reason and thought are lost in the waves of pleasure and completion comes too soon. As I collapse against her I can still feel the little spasms of her sheathe around me and I'm grateful that she is made in similar fashion to the women I am familiar with and that I was able to bring her with me. I'm tired and complete, and yet reluctant to leave. As I look up, I notice the sweat on her brow and smile. Kissing her temple, I brush back the damp hair there. There is a moment of surprise as she kisses me back, a soft kiss, full of tenderness on my mouth. A gentle thing with no passion or need or tongue, just that comfort thing again, and it is enough to remind me that I'm a health man with a beautiful woman in his arms, and the next day off. As I begin to move inside her again, her eyes widen endearingly and her mouth forms a precious O of surprise. I have to kiss her, and tell her "I love you." The next loving moves from slow to wild pretty quickly and as I come again, I send another thank you to A.G. for teaching me about risks. Some of them are definitely worth taking.


End file.
